Beating in the heart of a stone, I know what you wished for. What ached and etched that crestfallen look of surrender, and where to begin? In a soft half hearted smile you reveal yourself to everyone else - so unnecessary I wish you'd just stay honest and burst into tears. On a thin slice of this stark chilling december, you bare down your soul. I am here to listen but instead cannot help but notice, your nervous jitters and your colourless fingernails. How do I say I understand? That I feel the same sometimes? How things like, the faint tobacco sting in the air ("it reminds me of him") can bring such, comfort to people like us. And burn it may for fire. But you've learnt ashes are harder to hold. All in a day like this. We kick away at sickly leaves, start an unlikely conversation as we, watch them take short lived flights. And night is soon to come; a kind of certainty neither of us are used to. And even this we seem to doubt out of habit ("and I can make anything remind me of him"). For we don't like taking chances and second guessing and giving anything, the benefit of the doubt. For we prepare ourselves for a freak storm, even on a ripe lemon kissed summers day. It's hard but we've hurt before. And I say I understand. A token nod of approval later you brush your tears away carelessly I see that you don't believe me. I'm no fool...
But sitting in this silence, before the dying sun. I know, somehow you know, and we hear that empty beating, in the hearts of two stones. J
